


A Brilliant Idea

by daydreamsonacloudyday



Series: Isabel Cousland [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsonacloudyday/pseuds/daydreamsonacloudyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel watches Alistair and Zevran spar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brilliant Idea

**Author's Note:**

> If it’s not clear, Bear is Isabel’s mabari.

Isabel made herself comfortable as she sat and watched Alistair and Zevran spar. She suggested Alistair practice with the elf since he already knew her every move from fighting by her side for so long. She thought it would be a good idea for him to train with someone who's fighting style he wasn't used to, especially an assassin, just in case they ever came across more of them.

And it truly was a brilliant idea. Not only was Alistair picking up on new ways to strengthen his weaknesses, but Isabel was having the time of her life watching them fight—because, _Maker_ , they had worked up a sweat and had taken their shirts off, giving her quite the view.

Zevran was pleasing to look at, her eyes taking in his tattoos and a various assortment of scars over his lean, defined muscles. He was a very handsome elf, and while she enjoyed observing his good looks and the agile way in which he moved, her gaze kept returning to her fellow Warden. Alistair was taller and bulkier than the other man, and it was easy to forget just how powerful and strong he was since he was usually so gentle, especially with her.

Isabel bit her lip as she watched his muscles shifting under his sweaty skin, flexing and relaxing as he moved. He was quite graceful for a man his size, every block with his shield and swipe of his sword fluid and precise. He was so serious and focused on what he was doing, his brows drawn together and his eyes narrowed as he assessed and responded to each of Zevran's strikes. Alistair already was a very handsome man, but there was something about seeing him in that way, so different from his normal, awkward and silly self, that mesmerized her. Isabel couldn't take her eyes off of him, even if she had wanted to.

The light from the setting sun hit them in such a way that the sweat was practically _glistening_ on their skin. A particular bead of sweat on Alistair's chest caught her attention, and she just watched as it slid down his chest, over his abdomen, and past his navel, following the line of dark blond hair trailing down into the top of his pants. She didn't know where the thought came from, but she desperately wanted to lick that bead of sweat right off his torso.

That was _not_ something a proper lady should ever think, but Isabel had a weakness for handsome men, especially when they were in such a state. Even in the past she spent time appreciating sweaty male torsos, but never like _this_. It was always from a distance, never right out in the open and so unabashed as she was now. If her mother saw her like this she would be ashamed, and would no doubt giver her a stern lecture on propriety and maintaining her virtue—but she'd already lost her virtue, and she wasn't exactly a proper noble lady anymore.

She was a Grey Warden, in love with another Grey Warden, who happened to have a finely sculpted chest that looked _fantastic_ when sweaty. There was no need for propriety, and Isabel could think about whatever she desired.

And right now, that was Alistair.

With her internal crisis averted, she continued to openly stare at her beloved and attractive Warden, thoughts of licking the sweat off of his chest and the rest of his muscles returning to the forefront of her mind… as well as thoughts of licking _other_ things.

Isabel longed to feel Alistair's calloused hands sliding over her body, making her sigh and moan when he touched her in all the right places. She yearned to grasp his strong arms and the muscles of his back as he moved inside her, the familiar weight of his sweat-slick body pressing into hers. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair as he buried his face between her thighs, driving her into a frenzy until she was screaming his name…

She swallowed hard, very aware of how warm she had become, her entire body flushed at the un-ladylike thoughts of Alistair floating though her head. Andraste help her, she wanted to drag him back to the privacy of their tent so she could _really_ appreciate him. And she would have done it too, if the whole idea of him and Zevran sparring hadn't been _her_ idea in the first place. He was doing so well and she knew he enjoyed the practice, so she was stuck simply watching him, trying to ignore the way he grunted as he swung his sword, the deep sound reminding her of the grunts and groans he made when they were together.

It wasn't easy, and Maker, was she glad when they finished.

"So, what did you think?" Alistair asked, startling her. Isabel ripped her gaze from his chest and met his, a smile lighting up his face. "I think I'm covering my back more."

Zevran chuckled, grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping his face with it. "I don't think she was paying attention to your technique, my good friend Alistair," he said, smirking.

"No, no, it was good. You were very good," Isabel quickly muttered, standing up off the fallen log she had been sitting on. She took a deep breath and unconsciously licked her lips, gently placing her hand on Alistair's chest, right over his heart. "But, now that you're finally finished, I think we should retire to our tent for the night."

He understood the heated look in her eyes, his cheeks reddening as he began to blush. "Shouldn't I, uh… wash up first?" he murmured, scratching the back of his head. "Because, you know, I'm sweaty and gross and probably smell like wet dog?"

"You do smell like wet dog," Zevran interjected, wrinkling his nose before leaving the two Wardens alone.

Isabel snorted, biting back laughter before focusing her attention on Alistair. "You forget that Bear used to sleep with me every night before you stole his spot," she pointed out. "I'm used to the smell of wet dog." She reached up and pressed her lips to his, his hands finding her hips as hers traced over his chest. When she pulled back she shot Alistair a mischievous grin, teasingly running her fingers through the hair on his chest. "Besides, you're just going to get dirty all over again," she added, and his eyes widened in excitement.

"Right," he breathed, his lips curling into a lopsided smile. "I guess we'll just have to wash up afterwards… together, maybe."

"I like the sound of that," Isabel replied with a giggle. She pressed another kiss to his lips before dragging him off to the privacy of their tent, determined to enact every thought and fantasy that had gone through her mind.


End file.
